


The Ghost, The Spider and the Limelight

by Kia-Ronan-Fics (Kia_Kirkland93), Ronan_Sol



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Band Fic, F/M, James finds himself in the parking lot of a convenience store a lot, Uber, it's a secret hideout almost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kia_Kirkland93/pseuds/Kia-Ronan-Fics, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ronan_Sol/pseuds/Ronan_Sol
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is an Uber driver in LA who’s lost himself to the dreary memories of the past.Natasha Romanov is a drummer whose band is in desperate need of a bassist.Complete strangers to one another, until one day, Natasha leaves her drumsticks in James’ car.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been months since James had left college, he was slightly relieved if he was being honest, the relationship he'd previously been in had gone to hell when Steve had met Peggy. The pair quickly hitting it off, leaving James forgotten in the background.

When he'd arrived in LA, he didn't have anywhere to stay, living out the back of his car for a couple of days until running into Brock. The dark haired man offering him the spare room in his apartment without a second thought. 

It hadn't taken him long to stop playing, choosing to revert in on himself, becoming a shell of who he'd been before. His bass remained on the stand, him being unable to bring himself to play the instrument again.

In order to pay rent and the money to keep them from blackmailing him. James took up driving for Uber. It wasn't too bad at first, the customers were somewhat pleasant, most of the time anyway. Not so much about the drunk ones. 

Having to pick up a few different fares one night, absently chatting with them as he drove them to where they’d requested to go. Collecting payment before moving onto the next, he barely noticed when one of the pickups left a slim sleek black case on the backseat. 

Reluctant to open it at first, peeking inside hesitantly, a brow crawling up slightly at the sight of a simple pair of drumsticks, a contact name and number scrawled across the inside lid of the case. Natasha. Taping the number into his phone and sending out a quick text. ‘You left your sticks in my car. How do I get them back to you? James.’ It was simple and straight to the point.

He waited for a while, scrolling through instagram for a few minutes, checking his notifications every now and then to see if he had gotten a text yet. He hadn’t. His finger flicked the screen to flick a little further down his feed before his eyes landed on a familiar looking face. He scowled and put his phone away, shoving it into his pocket. 

He drove three more people to their destinations. He was getting tired, but he could procrastinate on going back to the apartment for a while longer. He kept driving. It was almost three in the morning, but this was a city of night owls, where people tended party all night, and sleep when pigs began to fly. 

Eventually, his eyelids began to feel heavy. He pulled up to a convenience store’s tiny parking lot, and closed his eyes. He made a mental note to wake up after only a few minutes, but he didn’t set an alarm or anything, trusting himself to wake without help. 

He had placed his trust into the wrong hands, and woke up to skies striked through with scarlet clouds. He could see another car pulled up next to his. It was empty. He could see people inside the store. How long had he been here? He shrugged the rest of his remaining fatigue away and pulled out of the lot.

Absentmindedly, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check if Natasha had sent him a text about the drumsticks. A text clear in his inbox from her number that read ‘I’ll be at a bar on the corner of where you dropped me last night. Swing by and I’ll buy you a drink. ;) Natasha’

James gripped the steering wheel and searched him memory for the place. This kind of thing tended to slip his mind, and considering… recent events… they didn’t seem to stick as well as they used to.

He opened up his messages. He tapped in a message, ‘can you tell me what its name is?’. He erased it, and tried again. He wasn’t sure why he spent so much time editing his text. But eventually he gave up and used what he had originally typed in the first place.

____

Natasha absently found herself checking her phone and sending out a quick reply as she worked on setting up the drums, choosing to keep her spare set in the back. She glanced over her shoulder toward the bar as she tapped the name of the bar into the send box ‘Slings and Arrows’. She still didn’t understand why they’d named it that, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

The text she received back read ‘I’m on my way’, and nothing more.

Standing behind the bar cleaning glasses was a dark haired woman, no more than in her mid-twenties. She was one of Natasha’s best friends, having helped the red head find a paying gig on the regular. Her other best friend, Clint lived in the apartment upstairs and was most probably feeding Lucky pizza again. 

Nodding once as she turned her attention back to the drums she’d barely have been able to afford. If it wasn’t for Kate’s help then she would have to cart her drums down to the bar every other day.  
It was much more beneficial to have more than the one set. A set to practice on and her set for the bar.

After a few minutes, a man walked into the bar. He came alone, and looked a little uneasy. Natasha recognized him immediately as her uber driver from the night before. He had longish, dark hair that was just beginning to slip past his jawline, and was in desperate need of a shave.

James spotted Natasha over by the drum set and lifted the case in greeting. She was hard to miss, with fiery red hair that could draw the eyes of anyone in a room, no matter how crowded it was to get.  
She was wearing a dark denim jacket with a few patches sewn onto the sleeves and a blood red symbol painted on the back.

James looked down at his own clothes for a second, sweatpants and a white t-shirt stained with cheeto dust. He had no place here, but he made his way over to the red-headed drummer nonetheless.

“I’ve got your drumsticks?” He said. He didn’t mean for it to be a question, but his voice wavered for a second at the end for reasons he did not know. 

She smiled at him and took the case from his hand. “Thanks.” she murmured, pausing for a second as she glanced past him toward Kate who was watching as she continued to wipe the glasses “What drink do you want?” she tacked on, it wasn’t like she’d not offered to get him one as repayment for keeping hold of her sticks.

“I don’t… You don’t need to get me anything. It’s fine,” James spoke, shoving his hands into his pant pockets, and began to walk away. He had a job to get to, and this place seemed to tug at a memory. A memory he had long sworn he would bury in ashes. He stepped off the stage, giving Natasha a small wave as he made to leave.

Natasha raised a brow as she watched him, allowing her lips to curl up slightly “One drink. You look like you’ve had a hell of a day” she decided, carefully placing the case onto her stool as she moved to hop down. Nudging him gently toward the bar as she nodded at Kate “You’ve come all the way here, it’s the least I can do”

James stopped walking. She was insisting. At this point he wasn’t sure if it would be considered rude to turn down her invitation. He turned back around and stared blankly at her as she came closer. 

She walked right past him and sat down at the bar. James thought about it for a second, but ended up sitting next to her. 

“So, you play drums?” He asked, honestly hoping the conversation would lead nowhere. He didn’t have the energy for a full-blown conversation. 

He used to. He remembered the days when he could charm the socks of any girl with a pair of cheesy one-liners and a smile.

Those days were gone, and now James was resorting to painfully obvious questions for the sake of polite conversation.

“Yeah, that’s my band over there.” She responded cheerfully, nodding to the other people on stage. A couple of them were messing around with their instruments. James saw a silver-haired guy with a guitar talking to a some blonde chick over by the mic. 

He found himself scanning the room, looking for something. Habit, he supposed. 

“You don’t have a bass.” He pointed out, then instantly regretted it. He wished he could swallow the words, and pretend they had never left his mouth.

Natasha gave him a look. “No, we don’t. Wanda’s been playing the bass line on the keys until we can find us a guy.” She paused. “Why, do you know someone?”

“No.”

There was a silence. He had answered too quickly. But Natasha just shrugged with a quiet response of “If you hear of someone, you know where we are”.

James nodded, keeping his eyes down. 

There was more silence, and while Natasha seemed perfectly comfortable letting it sit around for a while, James was feeling kind of uneasy. Was he supposed to talk? Should he try to start up another conversation? He wasn’t even sure which was worse, the talking or the silence.

Kate set down two beers in front of Natasha, offering a smile as well.

Natasha sipped slowly at the drink Kate placed in front of her, nudging the other glass toward him carefully “You’re more than welcome to stick around for a while and watch us play” she offered easily.

James nodded. He didn’t really feel like going back to his car to take people places, regardless of the pay. He didn’t want to head back to the apartment either. And while this place reeked of old memories and nostalgia, it was his best option. He shifted a little in his seat to get a bit more comfortable.

A sharp screech of feedback was heard from one of the amplifiers, and a small practice riff came from the silver-haired guitarist. He grinned at the crowd. 

“Nat, come on!” He called, stepping down from the stage to drag Natasha to her drumset. The redhead shot James an apologetic smile as she relented, joining the others on stage again, settling easily onto her stool as she shifted the case to remove her sticks.

The band was ready to play, and as he watched them up there, James noticed a sense of unity about them. They were one, and it was evident even when they weren’t playing. 

And for a few seconds, James had his fingers on strings of his own, playing side-by-side to the sound of a drum beat and melody. It was a painful moment. It was something he could never have again. He knew it.

Natasha lost herself in the moment as she tapped on each drum in practiced rhythm, the sound mingling easily with the others from her small group, closing her eyes as she smiled, the beat not wavering in timing.  
James was dragged back to the present at the sound of Natasha’s drum sticks clicking together as she started the band off. There wasn’t any instrument in his hands. He wasn’t on stage. He was in a crowded bar with a mug of beer in front of him that still demanded his attention.

The song progressed, and they were good. Very good. James was absorbed into every second of drumbeat, every note that came from the keyboard, every lyric that left the blonde woman’s lips.

He found himself tapping the fingers of his left hand on his beer, silently playing with them. 

The last song ended. The last chord rang through the room and a final crash from the drums hovered in the air.

James ended up staying for the entire gig, only being able to bring himself to sip at his drink in between songs. The last song ended, and the warm feeling in James’ chest that, in all honesty, he didn’t realize was there, blew away like dust in the wind. The band walked off the stage, taking their instruments and the life in the room with them.

The once-attentive audience slipped into the chaos that was multiple conversations at once. It became a sort of blanket noise for everything that happened. Cheesy pop music from the 80’s played softly from the speakers. 

It was over. It had been fun, but it was over. And James needed to get back to work.

Trusting Natasha would pay for his drink like she had promised, he took a deep breath and slipped outside the bar, making his way to his car. 

He would let this fade away in the dusty pages of his memory.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Natasha arrived to the spot she had left James and found it empty.

 

She very clearly remembered seeing him in there during the performance, but currently, the only evidence of him ever being here was the empty mug he had left behind, and even then, Kate was just now beginning to pick it up.

 

She had left the drumsticks behind in James’ car on purpose. He seemed friendly, and kind of cute. It was a bit of a shame that he’d taken off before she could speak to him again, but that begged the question if he’d come back too. From what she’d seen, he was clearly enjoying listening to them.

 

Sharon, lead singer of the band, blonde and charming, came up behind Natasha. “Was that the Uber guy?” 

 

Natasha blinked, glancing over her shoulder at her friend with a nod “Yeah. I was hoping he’d stick around a bit more” she admitted quietly

 

“Maybe send him another invitation? To the next gig I mean.” Suggested Sharon, leaning against the bar. “He was cute, you know. Definitely your type.” She raised her brow suggestively. 

 

Natasha rolls her eyes, scoffing a little at her friend “You’ve said that before” she pointed out, making no move to deny the claim, it wasn’t like Sharon was wrong, quite the opposite in fact.    
  
Sharon patted her shoulder. “He’ll be back. You saw how much he was enjoying himself.”

 

Natasha gave Sharon a smile, and dragged her back to the stage to pick everything up. Stacking her drums carefully, leaving the symbols to the side, it was easier to leave them on there stands. It would take more time to put them anywhere else, besides, it wasn’t like anyone else played here. 

 

The entire band eventually gathered all their things and put them up. It was tradition that after a gig they all hung out and went for ice cream. Today it was Wanda’s turn to pay for it, and everyone loaded into her minivan. 

 

Natasha couldn’t help but check her phone, to see if she had gotten any text from James. Anything along the lines of “sorry i had to go” or “something came up” would’ve helped her relax a little. There had been no word from him since he’d left the bar.    
  


She considered typing him a message, maybe just to see what had happened, where he went, that kind of thing.

 

‘where did you go???’

__________

 

James slipped a bundle of cash to the dark haired man he shared an apartment with.

 

They lived like roommates, but Brock insisted that he owned the apartment, and James was the one renting  _ his  _ space. James doubted it, but it wasn’t like there was anywhere else to go. 

 

It wasn’t like he was allowed to leave.

 

So he payed up and tried to make a home for himself in this god-forsaken hellhole. It reeked of tobacco and late nights watching reality television with a bag of microwaved cheetos. 

 

Microwaved cheetos had a smell. It wasn’t one James liked, either. 

 

So James just stuck to the background, doing his best to stay out of the way. 

 

He slipped into his room. It was the only room in the apartment that one could breathe in. The walls were a dull grey, shot through with the occasional scratch from a smashed bottle of beer or vodka. There was a window, but James kept the blinds closed, so only a sliver of light was able to sneak past and onto the floor. 

 

His bed was there. It was a small one. What size, James didn’t know, but his feet stuck out if he wasn’t careful and it left aches in his back.

 

In the corner, a ghost. A slim white form that encompassed all the memories that haunted him from day to day.

 

He couldn’t bear to look at it, but he couldn’t stand the idea of throwing it out, or even selling it.   
  


So he took a pillow off his bed, launching it across the room, toward the instrument, knocking it from the stand.

The strings made a noise as the bass hit the floor. A noise that brought back memories that were better off buried under a pile of ashes. Warm smiles and the beat of a drum pounding in his chest. Those were nights just like today. 

 

Except he had been the one on stage.

 

The instrument in the corner was a memorial. A reminder of those golden days so long past.

 

James pushed the thoughts down, and left the room. 

 

As expected, Brock was sitting on the couch. There was a baseball game playing on the television, and a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. He just sat there, counting cash.

 

James made a quick escape before he could be noticed, and went back to his car.

 

He didn’t necessarily know where he planned on going. He just knew that he couldn't stay there. Not now, at least. 

 

He had a job, right? Maybe he could go do that.

 

He drove off, waiting for the buzz of his phone to lead the way.

 

His phone did buzz, and he took a look, to see where he needed to go.

 

‘Where did you run off to? -Natasha’

 

____________

 

Maybe she shouldn’t have phrased it like that. 

 

She shrugged it off, though, and returned to the ice cream in front of her. Picking at it absently with the small plastic spoon as she stared down at her phone, waiting for a reply.

  
Nothing. But she kept staring at it until Wanda tapped her shoulder.

 

“Earth to Nat, you there?    
  
Natasha blinked, turning her attention to Wanda as she nodded “Yeah, sorry. I got a bit distracted for a minute.”

 

“He’ll write back, don’t worry.” Wanda assured with a smile, but Natasha had a feeling it wasn’t likely to be true.

 

So she put her phone away and turned to the band, Pietro was pulling out an index card to show the others. “I got in contact with this one girl who says she knows someone who might be able to play bass for us.”

 

Natasha leaned in to get a look at the card. the name ‘Peggy’, and then a number.

 

“That’s my cousin,”  Sharon pointed out. “She was in town recently. I think her boyfriend is in a band?”   
  
Natasha took the card as she studied the number “I think it’d be worth it to at least call, you think you can do it?” she wondered, her attention on Sharon as she slid the card back toward Pietro.

 

“I’ll ask her.”

 

Pietro shrugged and put the card away. “Well, we might have a bassist soon, cheers.” He raised his ice cream. A small toast to the possibility of a new member.

  
Raising her own ice cream with a grin “A full set. It’ll be good” she agreed, glancing at Sharon and Wanda as they did the same.

 

__________

 

James was driving a mom and her kid to their house when his phone buzzed.

 

He dropped them off with a smile, and drove away.

 

A few minutes later, he found himself parked at the same store he had woken up at that morning. He turned his phone on, and stared at the notification in front of him. 

 

~ _ One new message~ _

 

He recognized Natasha’s number. He considered opening up the messaging app and shooting back a reply. Maybe he had forgotten something. Or maybe she was going to ask him to pay up for the drink. He had assumed she would take care of it, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s been mistaken.

 

He opened up the app, and saw the message.

 

It sounded demanding, like he was expected to stay. It was almost as if he owed her something for his escapade, and she intended to make sure he knew. 

 

James turned his phone off and shoved it into his pocket. He didn’t owe her a damn thing.

 

He made a mental note to never go back to that bar. 


End file.
